The Storm, The Prince, and the Pie
by Lady Yami
Summary: Meryl Mistwalker, priestmedium, is stuck taking care of her father's bakery in Darkshire one night. Little does she know she will soon pay host to one of the most powerful beings alive...in the most annoying fashion possible, of course. Oneshot.


The Storm, the Prince, and the Pie

AN: Ignore the stupid title. I wanted to do something like "Pies of Danger", but everyone would probably think I was some fourteen year old writing a spamfic. Lol.

Disclaimer: Do not own WoW, etc.

X x X

One incredibly windy night last autumn, I received a strange visitor. I was just waiting out the last few hours of my shift, itching to lock up early. Who in the Light's name would venture out into this storm anyway? The rain was beating in sheets against my family's old house, like an uneven heartbeat. Strong, but there and sometimes not. The gloom, even for Darkshire, was something else. Thunder shook the room, loosening caked flour. Besides boredom, I had had a slow foreboding feeling that whole day. When I get a bad feeling, it's…well, bad. Being psychic and whatnot makes me prone to these feelings on a semi-constant basis though. The severity yo-yos. It could mean death or Evangeline breaks another teacup. My sister is ever-so-good at breaking things, but twice as good as covering for them, because she's blonde and can giggle cutely. My hands tightened on the counter, knuckles whitening. I stared at my hands in horror.

I could get paler?

I didn't think it was possible. Strangers often asked me if I had recently been ill, or had lost a significant amount of blood. All night elves were forever worried sick about me. Sorry, I'm not purple. _"By Elune!"_ They would say, some putting a freakishly large hand on my shoulder. _"Are you quite well?"_

I sighed at the series of memories, propping my elbow on the counter and letting my cheek rest in the palm. My family's bakery was a sordid thing, the ground floor of our two-story home. We did well, though. We were basically the only place in town that sold both bread, pastries, and wards against the undead. Indeed, there was a large shelf to my left, housing various charms and mixes that my mother, sisters, and I had set up. Shampoo that would make Forsaken squirm had recently been added to the list of merchandise. Unfortunately, it dyed your hair platinum white, and it sang choir-like songs every time you pulled a brush through it. Good for a lark, though! Lightning flashed again, and I ducked, squealing. The counter I was behind was high, and cool to the touch. Half-domed and glass, there were giant boxes of ice kept under it. To my right was the money box.

So anyway, back to me being bored out of my skull, worried about impending doom, and thinking about hot chocolate and a book. I was ready to bite my tongue and lock up, when the bell rang and a drenched figure stepped into the shop. "Brr, ferocious!" The mysterious, tall male said jovially to me. OH MY.

I nodded, stepping back slightly. "N-no kidding? What can I do for you?" I asked, feeling my heart starting to sink into my stomach. Yes. He was the source of the foreboding.

He shook off his hood, and I nearly gasped. It was an elf. A highborne, no less. With sky-blue eyes, and long golden hair cascading down his back. He smiled at me. "I have heard that the pies here are exceptional."

My mouth watered at the thought of Grandma's Forbidden Pies. I can sell them, not eat them. No need to be pudgy, after all. More pudgy. I'm not even really fat, I just have thighs the size of Nagrand. No worries.

"Yep. What kind are you looking for?" I asked slowly, eyes darting to his shoulders. So broad.

Er.

NO ESTROGEN, NO. YOU'VE NEVER BEEN EVIDENT BEFORE, SO WHY NOW? I'M TRYING TO BE A BUSINESS PROFESSIONAL. I THOUGHT WE AGREED WHEN WE WERE FOURTEEN THAT BEING A-SEXUAL WAS A-OKAY, AND WE'D RETIRE TO DIE ALONE WITH MANY CATS AND THEN RANDOMLY BE KILLED BY A WANDERING FELGUARD.

"Chocolate," he said slowly, if sensually. Then, cheerfully "The fluffy kind, with the white trim on the surface!" He bounced a bit.

I blinked. "Um. Yep. We have that." I bent down, rummaging around in the cabinet to pull out a slice. I cut it in half, noting the way his glowing blue eyes never left the quivering mound of chocolate. "Sample?"

"Please," he said, and took it when I offered it to him. He took it very gently, and took small, refined bites, waiting until the fork was completely in his mouth to slide it out. Myself, I sort of just inhale things. I snort strawberry frosting up days later. He closed his eyes, sighing. His golden lashes contrasted to the perfect tan of his skin. Bastard. "Perfect. Fluffy, yet rich. The crust is buttery, and flakey."

"But doesn't overshadow the mousse," I half sighed, dad's words drilling into my head, even now.

"Right!" He looked me straight in the eyes, and I was immediately unsettled. The blue just wasn't…right. Again, Mistwalker senses tingling. Even over such a stupid conversation. Since when are pie and the Legion connected?

_When someone from the Legion is BUYING your pie, you idiot! _A voice in my head hissed. Hello, voice. Voice appears when something is blatantly obvious yet I'm failing to pick up on it. So, it appears very often. "Interested in buying a whole pie?" I asked cheesily. I always hate this part of the job. I'm not very social, so being pushy is difficult and activates some sort of rusty conscience mechanism, far in the back of my brain.

"Five, please."

Huh. He tilted his head, and smiled beautifully at me. "Don't think we have that many," I said bluntly. The elf's smile faltered, eyes flashing green. I gulped. There it was. That oh-so-cold flash of Fel. No wonder. He's the source of the Sinking-Heart thing. Thunder shook the shop again, and I laughed nervously. "Let me check the back for you," I tried as jovially as possible. I'm not a very brave person. I was almost trembling as I searched through the boxes, trying to locate pies I knew weren't there. In the end, I found three. I carried the boxes out to him, gulping when I saw the fury clouding his features. His eyes were completely green now, confirming his identity as a blood elf. Part of me wanted to let him thinking I was an idiot and not notice, but the other half of me that thought he was hot didn't want him to think I was daft.

Also, since when is it my fault that there were only three pies? I wouldn't call it courage, but I got tougher as I set the pies down on the counter. "All we got."

He stared carefully at me. "I am displeased."

"Sorry, your majesty." I shrugged, sarcasm dripping from my voice. He looked shocked.

"Then you know who I am."

Huh. Is he playing with me? "Keep quiet, human." He hissed. "I came here for pie, and pie alone."

"Dunno, you are being kind of rude. What kind of royalty is _rude?_" I played along with him, though the danger meter was going off in my head. He scooped up the pie, throwing far too much gold down on the counter. I rolled my eyes. "That's like, ten times too much. It's a gold for them all together."

He shrugged, scooping it back then throwing a couple gold and a handkerchief at me. "See to it that word of this never escapes this shack!" He boomed, also grabbing the sample piece, which he somehow downed in one gulp, elegantly. He sighed. "I'll be back, of course," he said wistfully. "Good day, child of Lordaeron!"

And with that, he was gone in a flash of green light. Astounding, what people can do now. Taking in a deep breath, I scooped up the gold off the counter, not really believing what just happened. And then, of course, I noticed the initials on the corner of the scarlet hankie.

K.S.

…My brain froze. "Kael—".

_KAEL'THAS SUNSTRIDER, PRINCE OF THE BLOOD ELVES, RIGHT HAND MAN OF ILLIDAN STORMRAGE, LOVER OF PIES, AND ENEMY OF ALL LIFE. YES, HIM._

"I KNOW, DAMMIT!" I yelled at my own head. Goddamit, Voice.

Sorry. Voice echoed meekly. I stretched the fabric of the hanky, and it emitted a fragrant, musky smell. Neat. Where the hell did he keep this? And how was I going to explain to my parents that all of the gold coins he gave me had the sin'dorei insignia etched into them? Oh, the Legion came and bought some pies.

Above me, a shampoo-induced chorus emanated from the top floor of my house, and my sisters' laughter echoed down to me. Well, I guess in my house, it wouldn't really be so surprising.


End file.
